


Opia

by thejamesoldier



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Animal Instincts, Beta Sam Wilson, Bonding, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Reader, Pack Dynamics, Possessive Behavior, Rutting, Soulmates, heat - Freeform, in heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 02:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17035182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejamesoldier/pseuds/thejamesoldier
Summary: Opia n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable





	1. Who the Fuck is That?

**Author's Note:**

> OR
> 
> The a/b/o verse where Hydra fucked with Bucky’s hormones and temporarily made him a Beta (because they take orders better) as the Winter Soldier, but now that he’s safe at Stark Tower, Tony hires Y/n to help re-orientate him back to his natural-born rank as Alpha.

Silence reigns over the group. 

Tony cockily lifts his chin a tick, the scent wafting from his neck boasts that he’s proud of himself. 

“Why couldn’t you have just gotten him a  _kitten_?” Steve mutters into the calloused flesh of his large hands that are currently cradling his face. 

A specific type of exhaustion strains Rogers’ voice (hint: it’s not the sleep-deprived kind) as Bucky, standing beside him, goes ram-rod straight, body stiff, pulled to full height… _erect._ Bucky’s eyes widen so much it’s like they’re preparing to pop right out of his skull.

You blink owlishly at the entirety of the Avengers standing in a haphazard circle around you, just as shocked and profoundly confused as they are.

“Tony, that’s a person.” Natasha states point blank after a couple beats, before her nostrils flare and her Alpha nose scents something else that’s equally, if not more, alarming, “Tony that’s an  _omega_.” 

Everyone cranks their gazes slowly away from you and back to Tony. ‘EXPLAIN’ is the silent word that’s unanimously yelled at Stark. 

He does an insecure little shoulder roll before clearing his throat,

“When I was – whenever I was, you know… _lost_ I always had Pepper,” Tony begins like he’s reading the opening hook line to an epic story (A quiet ‘here we fucking go’ sounds from Clint). “My Pepper, she never let me down, not once. She’s honestly the only person on this entire planet, and quite possibly in this universe, that I truly trust my entire self to.” Tony pauses and quickly eyes everyone in the room, “No offense. But anyway she can handle it,  _me_ , she can handle me and all my baggage and hold me up, hold up all my weight when I need to lean on her. Metaphorically speaking of course, although I shouldn’t cast judgement upon the subject since I don’t know for sure if she could physically hold up all my dead weight, Pep probably can, actually she’s damn strong–,”

“Tony!” Natasha interrupts, voice tight and impatient as she flashes a quick analyzing side glance at you before returning her attention back to Tony.

“Right,” Stark huffs as he gets himself back on track and re-focuses his gaze on Bucky who suspiciously,  _purposefully_ , is avoiding looking at Tony or you or anyone for that matter. He seems quite fascinated with the plating on his metal arm at the moment. “In short, I got Barnes his very own Pepper Potts…but sorta in reverse. You know because Pep is my alpha and I’m the omega and Bucky is an alpha and this woman here is –” 

A fierce growl interrupts Tony’s tangent. Everyone’s eyes snap back to you. 

Your teeth are bared with fury, your hands are balled by your stiff sides, and your brows dig low into the sharp glare of your gaze.

“I. Am.  _Not_. An.  _Animal_. To. Be.  _Sold_.” You punctuate each sizzling word with a snarl, staring mostly at Tony but everyone receives your message loud and clear none the less.   

Tony Stark (you scent him expertly: Omega, wild sage, unburnt coal, tang of molten iron; highly intelligent according to the complexities of his scent layers) looks genuinely confused before narrowing his eyes challengingly against your glare.

“Didn’t you respond to the ad I put up looking for a caretaker with the natural-born rank of Omega?” 

You freeze, remembering the ad and that you did submit a resume, but not remembering seeing anything about Tony Stark or association with the Avengers for that matter.  

“Yes but–,”

“Who specializes in  _Alpha_ current duty, ex-military, or veteran patients?”

“ _Yes_! Bu–,”

“Equipped for severe PTSD episodes?”

“Yes b–,”

“Has a Harvard Masters Degree in Scenting?”

“Yes–,”

“Another Masters from Harvard on The Science of Bonding?”

“Ye–,”    

“Trained to help Alpha Re-Orientation?”

“Y–,”

“Certified in The Rut Rehabilitation Program?”

You practically shriek the growl you let out to get Stark to shut  _the fuck up_. Damn this rich know-it-all asshole. I mean he went and memorized your entire resume…who fucking does that?

After Tony goes silent with this infuriatingly knowing smirk slapped on his stupidly groomed face, you take a steadying breath. Everyone had been watching you two speak, their eyes jumping back and forth from each Omega. 

“As I was  _trying_ to say,” You shake your head a little, letting the hair around your neck stir your scent into the air making it stronger for the others to smell, making your presence known –  _demanding respect and attention_. “There was  _no_ mention of your name Mr. Stark, or who the patient was.”

“Why does it matter who the patient is?” Steve Rogers (you scent him too: Alpha, rainwashed lilies, old red city brick, dewy firewood ash; revealed as one of the most fiercely loyal alphas you’ve ever encountered as other people’s scents [especially the man with the metal arm] is bonded so deeply with his own) suddenly interrupts, sounding extremely defensive. 

You observe the Captain’s body posture with finessed skill, quickly gathering that what he’s defensive of is the man with the metal arm standing beside him. Quickly you turn your attention to the patient in question. 

When your eyes land on Bucky, something within him clicks. Maybe its the way you’re looking at him -  _evaluating, sizing up_ – or maybe its your scent, but whatever it is it makes that oddly familiar but uncomfortably foreign Alpha instinct kick in. James stretches and arches his neck subtly like a prancing stallion, parading the now visible steady beat of his heart pulsing against the thin skin connecting his neck and shoulder. In effect showcasing the unmarked skin canvas where the bond bite goes…

Bucky’s stance is wide and low and strong and  _completely inexorable_ , like not even the sun’s gravity could uproot him. His arms and shoulders are not held but simply energized and rolled back to highlight the blatant plane of proud muscle bloating his chest. He gently shakes his head to seem like he’s trying to get his bangs out of his eyes, but really the intention is more like that of a male lion showing off his mane. Bucky’s long dark hair tousles over the horizon of his shoulders, allowing for his scent to scatter and permeate the air thickly and temporarily override any other smell. 

It takes Bucky longer than it should to realize what he’s doing, and in his gap of clarity you take in all of him that’s being shown to you –  _sight and scent_ – and you instinctually respond right back. 

You formally present yourself to James Barnes. 

You arch the low curve of your back, winking you behind at Bucky and showing off the sensual dip right above your ass. You work your body with such practice, so  _prettily._ Bucky can’t help but take a silent breath in when he realizes you’re not done yet. You push your chest out in a subtle but obvious way – coy like, and unlike most omegas who drop their chin and gaze down from the superior stare of an alpha, you lift your chin  _higher_ , teeth clenching tight to show off the shape of your jaw, and eyes ablaze with sure challenge. You may be presenting yourself, but you sure as hell weren’t submitting. There is a huge difference that the media likes to make interchangeable. 

No one has been able to claim you, meaning you haven’t accepted anyone’s courtship yet. “You are too powerful for an omega” or “You’re too much to handle” they all say. Sometimes people even mistook you for an alpha, which always made you laugh like a loon. So not only did you present to Sergeant Barnes, but you sized up this alpha ballsy enough to declare himself formally to you. The pretty ones were always the weakest you had found, so you made the mistake of grossly underestimating Bucky. You thought he was way too goddamn handsome to be your equal, he would bow (or more like stomp and pout like the others have) out of your courtship within the day. Wrapping up the exchange you drag your amused and judging eyes up and down Bucky’s offered picture once more before looking away from him and back to Tony. 

“Oh I’m not going anywhere near him.” You state professionally unapologetic, with your arms crossed and your chin still raised high to match your single lifted, unimpressed eyebrow.  

Steve Rogers’ protesting mouth hangs open and Bucky has the audacity to look cautiously offended.

“Well why the fuck not?” Stark accuses you suddenly, quickly defending the alpha’s honor interestingly before Captain Rogers could cut in. 

Your nostrils flare as you take a calculating whiff of the offending alpha: James’ natural scent is heavy but hidden well and undetectable under a spray of thick confusion, crippling heart ache, self-loathing, fear, fury, guilt, and every negative emotion that the human heart is capable of feeling; like the smell of fresh summer fruit suffocated by the chemical blanket of pesticides. 

“He smells like death yet he is not physically dying, he is suffering by invisible hands but mostly by his own, I can barely register his rank as Alpha…” Your diagnosis trails off as you watch doom shade over Barnes’ face and he caves in on himself, hiding in the great shadow of Rogers beside him. You shake your head with finality, “No, I dare not get any closer.” 

“So what they say about an omega’s enhanced sense of smell is true?” You look at the man they call Sam (You scent him as: Beta, crisp Madagascar vanilla, green pine needles, what you imagine a cloud tastes like; he is impeccably compassionate as proven by the scent signatures of his friends worn proudly on his skin), noticing how he is trying to deflect all the attention off of James and onto something else. 

“Some omegas are more gifted at the art of scenting than others, yes,” You confirm for the informed and observant Beta giving him an acknowledging nod, a swift but genuine dip of your chin, before continuing, “And I went to school for years to study it, so…”

Sam catches your subtle sign of respect with a bit of surprise but quickly returns the gesture by nodding back. 

“So you’re one of the gifted ones are you?” Tony remarks bluntly with no awe and very little humor in his tone. 

You almost crack a smile at how much you seem to threaten Tony now that you are showing yourself to be a more dominant omega. Of course him being the only omega surrounded by not just multiple enhanced Betas, but many super human alphas, naturally Tony would be over protective if not a little (a lot) possessive of his friends-family-nestmates- _pack_. The overwhelming evidence of this intangible familial intimacy (you picked up on everyone’s mixed and complimenting scent signatures the second you walked in) pollutes the very air you breathe. The aggression of his pheromones practically attacking your nose wasn’t offensive to you, it was actually rather touching. 

Society likes to boast that the Alphas are the ones that get all possessive and over protective, and while that can be true most of the time they have it backwards. Alphas tend to display their aggression or displeasure very bluntly, while omegas are more manipulate and crafty about it. It’s the omegas that you really need to watch out for.

You square off to the powerful omega and only raise an eyebrow at him. Despite his very unsubtle impatience with you, you can’t help but respect the Stark for his deep and undying love for everyone in the room. 

 _How lucky they all are to have each other, to be apart of such a large strong pack_ , you think while quickly editing yourself internally to make sure no one picked up on your slight shift of attention and thought process through your scent. You doubt anyone here could possibly catch that kind of scent signature, but the red head agent Natasha (Scented as: Alpha, burnt cinnamon, bitter green apple, crushed jasmine, pheromone levels reveal her to be of peak fitness –  _lethal_ – top of the food chain, Apex Alpha) is staring at you like she is learning the inner workings of your soul so you best over estimate just to be safe. 

 “So you decline the job?” Captain Rogers barks short tempered at you, still highly defensive of Barnes. You don’t take offense to it at all. You scented that the pair of them shared a bond that went deeper and was thicker than blood.  

You flick your gaze back to his bold protective blue one, squaring your shoulders off and meeting him straight on as your eyebrows lower in confusion. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said you wouldn’t  _dare_ go anywhere  _near_ him.” Steve says icily like he’d very much like to take Bucky and leave. His survival instincts on high alert. Huh, maybe when you finish helping Barnes, Rogers should be your next client because even as an Alpha, he shouldn’t be emitting this amount of  _survival_ pheromones in a room full of friends and one stranger. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help him,” You explain simply to not just Rogers but Barnes and Stark and everyone present. “It’ll be a process, and I can’t guarantee anything because it’s really up to Mr. Barnes, but I can pledge to do my best to help.” 

There’s a few beats of silence as you scan everyone, scenting them and matching that smell with names as you go –

Clint: Beta, the vague smell of feathers, mint leaves, fresh churned butter

Wanda: Alpha, what you imagine stardust to smell like, ripe cherries, the taste of copper

Vision: Alpha, no defined smell other than Vibranium and  _strangely_ a hint of paprika

Thor: Alpha, the unplaceable aroma of freshly pounded metal (although you can’t determine which kind), upturned soil, and ozone

Bruce: Beta, old black ink, zing of something potently chemical, and wild grass

“I have papers for you to sign, prices to discuss, and living quarters to grant,” Tony suddenly booms, promptly interrupting your systematic scan, as he comes up to you and whips out a glass slate that lights up when he touches it. 

You take one last meaningful glance at Bucky who (is he blushing?) blatantly is avoiding everyone’s gaze by staring at his boots, him and Steve curled into each other like two worn magnets, before following Stark out of the foyer. 


	2. Phase One: Get James to Relax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The a/b/o verse where Hydra fucked with Bucky’s hormones and temporarily made him a Beta (because they take orders better) as the Winter Soldier, but now that he’s safe at Stark Tower, Tony hires Y/n to help re-orientate him back to his natural-born rank as Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! So this got a fair amount of praise so hopefully I can write yall a good story. and also ADORABLE DRUNK BUCKY OMG I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. No smut yet x

Okay its not even been a week and Phase 1 of Project Alpha J.B.B is already a mighty fucking disaster. And not in the sense that you didn’t get him to relax, which was the goal, the problem was that he actually became  _way_ too relaxed. 

Tony, being the nosy and over protective asshole that he is, decided to throw a little party with just the Avengers and their close friends as a formal way of welcoming you to their nest aka Stark Tower. It sounded intimate, only friends and family, but after you thought about it you realized there are kind of a lot of Avengers and a few close friends and family really makes the numbers multiply. You hadn’t liked the whole party idea,

1\. Because that’s not advised protocol when trying to familiarize yourself with your new client

and

2\. Because you hate parties, so

But Tony won out mostly because it is his house (or er,  _tower)_ you were both staying in so you didn’t really have a choice. In all honesty you wanted Barnes and you to move out and live alone as part of Phase 4, in order to get him away from all the noise and bustle and activity of the Tower that clouded his senses that were already struggling to color reality for him. 

You knew you would have to have a PowerPoint, three ten page essays, and four formal proposals ready to present to Tony The Mom and Steve The Dad in order to get clearance for Barnes to leave and live without them. 

 

* * *

 

As the party was on Saturday, you had an entire week to get a feel for the dynamics within this ‘Super Pack’ as you chose to nick name the Avengers. Sure you could pick up on the basic Alpha Beta Omega ranks, but individuals were more complex than that. Meaning certain Alphas are higher than others, same goes for the other ranks, and it takes skill to figure out those kind of subtle scent signatures and pheromone details. By the end of the week though, you had a solid layout of the ranks and relationship dynamics of and between everyone. What? You were fucking good at what you did. Though, to their credit, this pack was a lot more complex than any other pack you’ve worked with due to all the unique talents and gifts and abilities which slightly enhanced whatever their natural born rank was. 

You knew everyone by scent instead of just name-to-face. They were in your vault now; an omega like you never forgets a scent signature once you’ve committed it to memory.  

Most of the week you spend sorting all pack stuff out, but the other half of your energy was spent familiarizing yourself with the ridiculous large Tower you were now going to have to navigate and live in. There were DNA scanners that needed your fingerprints, eye scan, voice scan, scent signature, and it was honestly overwhelming. You had access to all the common floors (and your own  _floor_ , yeah you had your own floor which was ridiculous) and whatever Barnes allowed you access to that was on his floor. Even though Barnes was surprisingly willing to allow you full unrestricted access to his floor and personal bedroom, out of respect you settled on access to his living room, green room, gym, tech room, mini gun range, and foyer but left his sleeping quarters private. 

It just didn’t seem right, and James seemed to agree. Although you found he agreed with everything and anything anyone said, he obviously wasn’t comfortable making his own decisions, even ones as simple as picking food for a meal. That would be one of the first issues you would attempt to address with him. 

Through out the week you quickly gathered that Barnes, despite being temperate and sweet, was also stiff as a board and awkward. Outwardly he was constantly uncomfortable, always unsure, jumpy, nervous, and inwardly there was a darkness to how he treated and spoke to himself that broke your heart. 

That darkness disappeared altogether though the night of the party. 

 

* * *

 

Never in your life did you imagine you would ever see James Barnes drunk. I mean it was  _supposed_  to be impossible.

It’s currently Saturday night and Stark’s party is turning out to be a success, as all Tony Stark parties end up being, and you have being working on the same glass of lovely rose wine for the past hour and a half. Parties aren’t really your scene, but since you were going to be living with these people, and Barnes was going to be there because  _Rogers_  was going to be there, you thought it best to try and fit into their lives. The Avengers are all generally nice to people outside of their pack, and even if most of them are intimidating (not that you minded that, you were intimidating too) as is there nature, you still could see yourself coexisting quite well. 

You kept lazy track of Barnes as he bounced around with Steve from small groups of people throughout the room, currently they were drinking something Thor was uncorking and boasting animatedly about. Even though you were trying to get Barnes comfortable with you around, and did not expect him to be by your side all night or even come over, it was important and instinctual for the Alpha if not to make first eye contact, then to at least demand for it to be upheld. 

A good Alpha always makes sure his bond mate knows where their Alpha is, because Alpha means safety. Or at least that’s the primal part of it. Nowadays, with the whole Omega Rights Movement, Omegas are learning that they can trust Alpha mates (if they chose to have one) but don’t have to be singularly dependent on them. 

And since you are trying to re-orientate James’ mind into remembering his rank as an Alpha, you yourself have to know how an Alpha thinks, what their impulses are, what their primal instincts are in order to act in ways to either provoke that behavior or trigger it. But right now, Bucky is almost showcasing classic textbook Omega nervous behavior. What with how he is shadowing Steve, never meets anyone’s gaze for longer than three seconds, doesn’t look like he says anything without silently checking with Steve first. 

You sigh internally and take a big gulp of your wine, mentally going through protocols and which behavioral manipulative exercises you should try first with him. He’s going to be your toughest case yet. You get so lost in thought staring at your wine and swirling it around the glass like you’re stirring the ideas in your mind, that you don’t notice Barnes approaching you. Well, you could have been  _made_ to notice with certain Alpha grade sensory techniques Barnes has at his disposal but he is far from capable of that at the moment. 

“Hey,” James doesn’t necessarily slur but definitely prolongs the ‘ey’ as he sidles up to you. 

You snap your gaze up at him with genuine impatience, only to jump in your own skin when you see Barnes’ expression. He looks…no…it  _can’t be_. Frantically you search his eyes and simultaneously sift through his client file in your head. Didn’t he say he couldn’t ever get drunk? Supersoldier shit and all? 

Instead of responding you just deadass stare straight at him and cock your head to the side a bit, eyebrows knitting low over your puzzled gaze. The  _dumbest_ ,  _loosest_  grin  _ever_  crawls and plops itself sloppily on James’ lips as his eyes slow blink at you, one eyelid sticking longer than the other. 

You wait a couple of half alarmed-half verging on comical beats of silence before speaking, 

“James are you dru–,”

“S’nice,” James slurs over the beginnings of your concerned question, tipping into your space like a human leaning tower of piza.

“What?” Comes your emotionally whiplashed response as you slowly pull back, matching him inch for inch as he encroaches on you.

And before you can say anything further James honest to God whisper yells ‘Timber!’ and almost head butts you on his way to smashing his entire face (stubbled jaw and all) into your neck, taking a loud and long breath through his nose against your skin.

“Woah hey hi hello there!” You exclaim in a strange soprano key you haven’t broken up to before as you not so gently try to shove him out of your personal space. When that doesn’t work because shit he’s fucking  _strong_ you expertly slither your way out of his clumsy grabby hands. 

“ _More_ ,” James growls fiercely when you manage to detach his face from your neck, which might have been threatening but the way he’s pawing at you like a attention-starved puppy sort of takes away the reality of actual danger.  

“More?” You ask through grit teeth as you wrestle him away from you like you would wrestle a fussy toddler into clothes. But James stubbornly keeps reclaiming his space in your bubble like a magnet that’s found it’s polar opposite. 

“I want  _more_ ,” He demands again, this time not in a growl but a sensual grovel that vibrates under the meaty muscle of his chest that he purposefully presses to yours.

Before you can wonder what the actual fuck Bucky is talking about and why he’s suddenly displaying textbook Alpha behavior (okay maybe drunk Alpha behavior, but Alpha behavior all the same), Sam Wilson waltzes up brandishing a half full glass of gin and tonic and his classic megawatt smile. 

“Hey Y/n! I see you and Buck-pukey have gotten off on a better foot than ‘I dareth not get any closerth’!” Sam recites in a truly poor imitation of your voice and in an equally terrible Shakespearean rendition of the words you said to Bucky at the beginning of the week when you met. 

“AHHH!” James literally  _roars,_ teeth bared like a little lion, “Get  _away from her_  you SNEAK!” He declares in a lose loud threat, shoving you behind him with an unexpected amount of force and making a weird drunk growling noise (is that a thing?) deep in his chest. 

Sam and you catch eyes over James’ metal shoulder. But instead of the expected confused look you thought Sam would share with you, Wilson looks ready to  _fight_ –

“Sam is your friend James,” You interject stiffly to cut off Sam when he opens his mouth looking like he’s about to argue back. Avidly you to keep the hysterical smile threatening to take over your expression of absolute professionalism off your face. “You don’t want to fight him.” 

“Oh  _yes_  I  _do_ , now prepare to DIE you stinking tin bird,” James threatens and before you can respond to the utter ridiculousness of that statement, Sam beats you to it albeit in a less mature way.

“Take a shot you shitty arm wrestling machine!” 

The night really took a sharp fucking turn to the  _left_  that you weren’t at all prepared for. 

As you try to contemplate what the actual fuck is going on, Barnes keeps making that weird growling sound at Sam, who is in turn responding with a committed ‘You shall not pass!’ Gandalf reenactment (which now that you think about it doesn’t really make much sense in response to Bucky’s original duel challenge, but who cares they were drunk). 

It’s time you stepped in. Are they always like this?

“Grow  _up_ you two! James, stop making that noise and Sam put that drink down before you spill all over your Armani.” 

They continue to ignore you so you sigh and calmly set your long forgotten glass down on a nearby table. You flick your hair out of your eyes and slip out from behind James who is bantering pettily with Sam, making your way over to Steve who looks suspiciously spacey too as he chuckles animatedly next to a slightly swaying Thor. 

“Mr. Rogers,” You say and peruse your lips as Steve jumps and faces you, big blue eyes wide and a bit watery. 

“Y/n, ma’am, um please call me Steve,” Rogers –  _Steve_ – requests when he seems to finally focus on you. 

 _Ma’am?_  Okay…

You raise an eyebrow at the Captain but oblige him, “Steve I think Mr. Bar–  _James_ needs to be escorted to his room to rest for the night, or he and Sam will be calling each other names all night.” 

Steve immediately spots James and Sam where you left them arguing and rolls his eyes fondly. 

“Oh they’re fine,” 

“So they always act like hangry four-year-olds who missed nap time?” 

Steve slow blinks at you, similar to the way James did, “Did you just say hungry or angry?” 

You huff with mild irritation before forcing a smile and excusing yourself.

“Urban Dictionary it!” You smart playfully over your shoulder at Steve as you walk away to take things into your own hands. 

When you approach James its like his nose pulls his face around to you like a fish on a line. His eyes land on you and freeze for a moment, you can practically see the ‘Processing Error 305′ in his pupils before he realizes that you had been gone this whole time. James gasps in this goofy worried way and chucks his arms around you and hauls you into his chest. 

“You can’ go missin’ like tha on me a’righ?” James struggles to get out and he begins  _petting your hair_  as you try to wiggle out of his arms once again. Your efforts seems to have no effect on Barnes though, seeing as he just continues petting you and holding you flush to him, glaring over your head at Sam who’s currently finishing off some flourishing insult. 

“Come on let me go James, I won’t leave but I can’t breathe.” You say, adding the little lie about not being able to breathe (even though you could breathe just fine, in fact his scent was so alluring, so calming yet stimulating beneath the coating of trauma you would be content to stay there and try to figure out the scent signatures like a rubik’s cube all night). 

As you predicted James releases you with an odd coo, holding you at arms length and going almost crossed eyed as he watches the pulse in your neck beat in healthy time with your chest rising, apparently making sure you could breathe again. Rolling your eyes, you cautiously start to coax James out of the room. You send Sam a sharp stink eye when you see he’s about to further instigate trouble with the drunk mass of muscle in your arms by re-starting the petty banter. Sam snaps his mouth closed into a pout before skulling back the rest of his drink and sauntering off.  

“Come on I’ll walk you to your room, or er floor.” You say in a tone you usually reserve for children. Apparently it was needed at the moment though as James began yielding to your hands and letting you lead him away. 

James eventually gives up on trying to escape (to insult Sam again probably) and follows you willingly out of the party and into the private hallways of the Tower. It’s a minute or two of merciful silence as you walk side by side, before James ruins your peace. 

“S’nice,” He repeats what he said before as he  _again_ begins falling into you, snuffling his way to your neck. “S’ _mine_.” 

It honestly catches you off guard when James grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you  _hard_  against the wall, tracing a trail with his nose from the base of your collarbone, up your neck, and around to the soft patch of skin behind your ear and back down again. Your head slammed pretty hard but you recover quick enough to register the scrape of – 

_Are those his teeth against my Bond Spot?!_

“James you can’t you’ll hurt me  _no_!” You yell as you put all your energy into shoving him off you.

He pulls back, albeit a little wobbly and not because you shoved him but by his own will, and stares at you with these big deep endless argent blue ocean eyes. 

“I would  _never_ harm you,” James murmurs with his eyebrows pulled low and his irises shaking around wide pupils. Genuine. Meaningful. A moment of clarity in the haze of whatever it is that he’s drunk on.

You observe him for a second before gulping discreetly and quickly fixing your hair from his impromptu re-styling session. As he stares at you there is no intention of malice or dishonor in his eyes, so you forgive his unchecked behavior and add it to the list of ridiculousness that went on tonight. 

“You better not,” You warn before sighing and waving him to follow you, “Come on I’ll see you to bed.” Your voice takes on the tone of that of a mother coaxing a toddler to their room (which is honestly not far from the current situation). 

James watches you take one, two, three strides away from him before his gaze falls to rest on his metal and flesh hands. He giggles, the sound catching in his throat, at how funny it would be if he was holding purple feathers right now. James’ sways his weight forward and stumbles blindly after you. His drunk mind grasps desperately for entertainment after a few beats of renewed silent walking, and when his eyes find the blurry image of your butt displayed nicely in your skirt an uncoordinated grin slaps itself onto his face. He trips forward,

“HEY!” You jump as your hands fly to cover your behind, “ _Did you just pinch my butt?_ ” Comes your disbelieving exclamation of surprise as an after math stinging sensation rolls through the flesh of your left ass cheek. 

James giggles louder this time, the noise cracking in a squeaky discombobulated way as he jogs to round in front of you, circling you and eyeing you like an animal…like an Alpha would. Huh.

“Beautiful butt.” Is all he has to say for himself as he continues to circle you with this odd little swag you have never seen him work before, ending up behind you again. 

“Well, um, thanks? But lets keep our hands to ourselves shall we–,”

“Woo!”

“James! I said hands off Mr.!” You whirl on him again, keeping both of your hands on your ass this time, protecting those cheeks from the wrath of  _Drunk Alpha James: A Menace._ James laughs all loopy as this time instead of pinching your butt he had oh so gently –  _politely_ – tapped it. 

When Bucky stumbles to face you he leans in so fast that your noses accidentally  _boop_. And before you can register all that is happening he speaks. 

“Catch me,” He teases randomly before taking off at an impressive sprint down the hall while attempting, to your great horror, to take his clothes off. 

When you eventually find Barnes he’s on the gym floor of the Tower (how in the hell did he get there so fast?) splashing around happily in the huge Olympic grade indoor swimming pool.

“Y/n! Y/n, the water is wonderful come play with me!” He cheers when he sees you come in.

You can’t do much else but stand on the edge of the pool rim and watch with your mouth dropped open as James Buchanan Barnes swims buck fucking nude in the gym pool. 

“I am Poseidon, God of the Sea, and you can be my mermaid wife,” Bucky explains very matter of factly as splashes around in the shallow end before becoming positively entranced with how the light dances off his metal arm under the water and letting out a tiny ‘Oooh’. 

“Hey Y/n, have you seen Buc–CKY?!” Steve calls jogging up to your side apparently just having realized his friend was missing from the party and about to ask where he’d gone, but chokes mid ‘Bucky’ at the sight of his naked best friend in the pool. 

“Jesus H. Christ? What was in that stuff Thor gave us?” Steve says before honest to God placing a fucking hand over his heart and huffing all scandalized like a passionate republican grandma in church. 

“Stevie!” James yells in a goofy shriek once he notices Steve’s presence beside you, the biggest damn smile on his face as he flails and splooshes in the water around himself, “You can be my brother Zeus!” 

Steve is about to respond in the best way anyone could to that particular invitation, when James begins to rise out of the water near the shallow end. This effectively cuts Steve off and makes your brain short circuit. James stands up just enough that the V of his hips glimmers in the artificial light above the pool, and his twig and berries stay safely blurred under the rippling surface. 

You just simply didn’t have the strength to look away from all that glory – the wet dark hair, the shining beefcake chest, the light tangoing on the edge of his jaw, that magnificent metal arm (scars and all), the soaked happy trail…

Though that didn’t stop Steve from going all Grandpa on you and covering your eyes with both of his large hands (like one wasn’t enough?), hissing a chastising ‘ _Bucky!’._

What the hell was your life? 

A watery grunt pulls you out of your head and ends the moment of hysteria swiftly.  _James is in pain_  (how you knew that from just a grunt was beyond you).

“My, my head is throbbing,” James sure enough declares as his drunk stupor wares off a little and discomort starts to replace it. 

His system must be working whatever it is he took or drank out fast. 

“Now will you listen to me?” You huff as you snag a towel off a neatly folded stack sitting on a nearby lawn table. “Steve, can you make sure James’ bed is turned down and that there is a proper dosage of advil on his side table accompanied by, like, five liters of water?” 

Steve nods, mock salutes you (or at least you think – fucking  _hope_  – it was a mock salute), and takes one last worried glance at James before trotting off. Rogers smacks his toe on the door on the way out, you roll your eyes. 

Stupid fucking drunk alpha supersoldiers. How in the heck were you roped into all this again?

You wade down onto the pool steps and begin beckoning James into the harbor of your open towel-draped arms. As he gets closer you realize that if your gaze lowers from its current place at the cleft in his chin, you  _will_ see his dick. You slap yourself mentally and quickly wrap him up the second he’s close enough to hug into you.  

“Y/n I hurt,” James whimpers like he just aged back twenty years. It should sound weird and silly, but it’s honestly the purest thing you’ve ever heard. 

You sigh, “Alright it’s okay Stevie is making sure your bed is all cozy and I’m right here.” 

He nuzzles into you which you stubbornly admit is sweet, but it also makes it extraordinarily difficult to assist him and yourself safely out of the pool. You eventually get the both of you onto dry level cement, and a thought hits you. 

“James,” With your eyebrows scrunched and a drunk alpha supersoldier blocking most of your visual field, searching the ground for James’ magically missing clothes becomes a difficult task, “Where the fuck are your clothes?” 

“I ate ‘em.”

“WHAT?!” You cry in complete panic, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrenching him to face you. 

A slurred cackle leaks from the hopelessly adorable smile on his face at your alarmed and worried reaction. I mean at this point you were so off from normal drunkenness you were taking no chances. 

“Got ya,” James murmurs before his happy expression wipes back to muted pain, he exclaims a soft ‘owie’, and then literally shoves his nose right into the soft warm alcove of your neck. Again. He takes a deep slightly wheezing breath in, and exhales in one. big. wet. dog-like.  _HUFF._  

You roll your eyes for the millionth time tonight and battle your growing fondness/omega-related desires back into their respective cages. You ignore how right it feels for him to scent you (even as drunk as he is, and even though you didn’t give him permission), you ignore the way your body tingles for him, you ignore the safe feeling his presence alone gives you, you ignore how his voice finds a home in the marrow of your bones, you ignore how his touch stills your soul from a raging ocean to an untouched sacred pond. You just continue to dry him off and  _ignore_. 

Eventually you make it to James’ room. Steve did his duty and left all and any needed care items out for you to easily find. James stubbornly hasn’t let you remove his nose from the spot on your neck where your scent is strongest so you eventually gave up trying to push him off and just shuffled with him here. Clothes were problem number one, and you saw Steve laid out a pair of soft looking sweatpants. 

“Okay James I’m gonna–,”

“Bucky, call me Bucky,” He mumbles, voice muffled against your neck. The warmth of his breath on your skin makes you repress a shiver.

“Okay  _Bucky_ I’m gonna need you to put your pants on for me,” 

He harrumphs crankily in retaliation, but only when you promise that he can temporarily return to your neck after, does he scramble away from you and hastily shove his legs into the sweats. You of course give him privacy and turn your back. 

The room suddenly goes very quiet. There’s no more clothing rustling against skin and metal or the sound of his breath huffing out in effort, and before you can turn around to check James –  _Bucky_ – runs his cold metal knuckles up the exposed line of your back ([this is kinda what I imagine you wore to the party](https://cdn1.thehunt.com/app/public/system/note_images/2463461/note_preview/1809ad4535b4d009a76d9247df49808d.jpg)), following the bone road of your spine, raising goosebumps in their wake. When he reaches the top knob, he swipes his chilly fingers across the back of your bare neck. 

The shiver that ripples through your entire body could have been categorized as a seizure. 

“Woah okay,” You choke out as you whip around and take a healthy step back from James. 

“M’sorry,” James apologizes immediately, looking guilty for the first time since he came up to you this evening, strangling his metal wrist with his flesh fingers against his lower stomatch. “It’s harder to control impulses with the metal arm,” He offers sheepishly as he shrugs into himself and lowers his eyes, slipping out of the Alpha persona he adopted while more drunk. 

You notice he said ‘ _the_  metal arm’ and not ‘ _my_ metal arm’. It makes you impossibly sad for some reason. 

“It’s alright, here,” You say as the moment grows too intimate in the silence for your liking, too soon, too much. Holding the pills in one palm and the jug of water in the other hand, you offer them to Bucky with a twitchy smile. 

He takes the items cautiously, his flesh fingers shaking as they graze your palm to scoop the pills up, and his metal hand stiff as the fingers tick and whir as they grab the jug from you. 

Bucky winces after he downs the pills and the water, rubbing his right temple with his eyes shut tight, 

“Remind me never to drink anything Thor offers me again.” 

You don’t respond verbally only nod even though his eyes are closed, and quickly escape the room without a word. Bucky looks up at the soft sound of his door closing and groans as he flops on his bed. He won’t remember much of this in the morning. 

Once you are safely back on your floor and under the spray of your shower, do you let the unbelievable weirdness of the night settle on your shoulders. Your mind cards through tonight’s events with a fine tooth comb and automatically starts categorizing them, labeling them as medical and physiological notes in James’ client file in your head. When you eventually get out of the shower you type all of these down in James’ official file on your computer like an actual professional. 

When you finally get in bed, the last thing you do before falling asleep is whispering to the dark ceiling,

“ _What_ the  _fuck_?” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning is stiff and awkward as everyone in the Tower recovers from last night. You are one of the first ones to head down to the common kitchen in search of breakfast as you hadn’t stocked your own kitchen on your floor yet. Getting off the elevator you shuffle in your usual morning lazy way down the hall, make a turn through a doorway to the seating area to see James (surprisingly) walking towards you about to leave. His head snaps up the second your scent caresses his nose.

“Y/n.” James doesn’t say your name like a question, its more like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud at all.   

Wasting no time, you pivot on your heel and start to walk away, ignoring James’ like he wasn’t even there to begin with. 

A warning growl wrenches itself nastily from James’ throat. It cause you stop and raise your eyebrows at the door you just came through. Mild amusement smears across your emotional pallet at James’ attempt to demand acknowledgment from you. He’s gonna have to do a lot more than growl at you to earn your respect. You knowingly let another silent beat go by before you dare his fragile Alpha instincts, and take yet another step away from him.  

Another noise claws its way out of Bucky’s chest, this time its more of an offended snarl than a growl.

You pause once more, but this time slowly turn back around to square  _the fuck up_ because last night was an absolute disaster. Bucky is the picture of a disgruntled Alpha (his drunkenness must have somehow cracked open that door Hydra chained up so tight): upper lip curled, teeth bared, shoulders high, fists clenched in deadly balls of bone and metal, heather grey eyes simply on fire. Once your eyes connected with his you kept it and held it firm - relentless. 

After a few moments of intense staring Bucky seems to come out of himself and his wound up expression loosens then drops completely, his eyes mirroring this change and widening out of their glaring slits. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” He stammers as confusion, frustration, then fear quickly overwhelms and devours him whole. “I don’t know where that came from – it was terribly rude,” 

As James continues to blubber and apologize you keep your gaze sharp on his eyes even as they flit insecurely around the room. You stalk towards him with all the grace and stealth of a lioness. He may be a mess, but he’s making progress. His reaction to you ignoring him was that of an Alpha. 

“I’ll never do that again, I just don’t know what I was thinking treating you like that–,” He cuts himself off when he finally braves a glance up at you and realizes you’re not two inches from him. 

By the time he registers the color of your irises you’ve grabbed him by the front of his thick stubbled throat and slammed him hard (similar to how he did to you last night) against the nearest wall, crowding unforgivingly into his personal space with a snarl. 

“You reacted the way you did because you wanted me to  _respect you,”_ You purr as you keep your hand the only source of contact between you, and hover your lips just above the cleft of his chin. He was tall goddammit. “And an Omega’s respect is earnedand not so easily given,  _especially_  to a courting Alpha.” 

The wheels are spinning furiously behind Bucky’s eyes as he digests your words, they widen when you lean even closer and rise on your tip toes to line your faces up. Nose to nose. 

“You are far from being gifted such an honor by me,  _Alpha_.” You spit out his formal rank title like curdled milk on your tongue, not feeling that he’s earned the right to be recognized – acknowledged– as an Alpha yet. 

There is a little anger in your heart at the way Bucky treated you last night, touching you like you were his when he hadn’t earned it, but you are doing all of this not out of a place of malice, no, but out of the will to force Bucky to accept the responsibility of his rank. Alpha, not Beta. You are trying to trigger his instincts but also provide him with answers as to why he feels the way he feels so he has ground to walk on instead of just floating aimlessly in unknown territory. 

This wasn’t Bucky’s fault, he wasn’t like this by his own doing. You had to remind yourself of that. But Alpha’s were severe people, all in their own ways of course, but severe. Bucky shrunk away from strength not because he was scared of it, but because he was scared of  _himself_. Scared of what he was capable of. And by manhandling him and being rough with him, you’re showing him that you can support him. Whatever and however much strength Bucky has, you are strong enough to  _take it_. 

The source of frustration that’s really getting to you though is the potency of his confused emotions and torn heart translates in exact measurement to his pheromones and scent; Bucky’s actually frustrating you on a  _molecular_ most  _basic_ natural level. As an omega it’s instinct to know who’s who, and Bucky is in between almost,  _transitioning_ and its making you uneasy not knowing for sure.  

Bucky looks exactly like he smells, shocked, confused, scared (not of you of course), cautiously offended, and….aroused? You smirk a little when you catch that among the chaos of his overall scent, and pull back from him only to close back in and this time tighten your fingers around his neck. Your eyes hop punishingly to and fro from his and you watch as a slow but sure wrath returns, churns and burns in the cobalt argent molten lava of his irises. 

 _There you are_ , you think as you match the growing ire and fury of the manhandled and disrespected Alpha resurfacing in Bucky’s eyes and leaking to contort his facial expression. 

You allow that energy in him to circulate generously through his system, letting him feel it in his blood and settle in his bones, before releasing his neck altogether and dragging your hands down the front of his cotton button-down in a quick sharp swipe, like a cat sharpening its claws on a scratch post. A little hiss slithers up your throat when you step back just as Bucky lurches forward at you, upper lip twitching to curl. 

Not quite there, but his body language is spot on so you give him some slack. 

You send him a quick wink to ease the tension of the moment into a more playful channel, and purposefully show him your back – letting him know you don’t see him as a threat – and swing your hips as you walk away. 

Bucky stares dumbly after you, not quite knowing what just happened but coming to the hesitant conclusion that he was okay with it, maybe even  _liked it_. Liked the feeling of strength and power he used to so strictly associate with Hydra and evil and murder and death. As the aggression leaves him, tiredness takes its place and he sags a little as it trickles out of his system completely. He sighs internally and goes to find Steve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so drunk Bucky was literally so fun to write. I hope you guys liked this part! Lemme know if you wanna :) xx

**Author's Note:**

> YAHTZEE! Okay lemme know what y’all think pretty please? I know this chapter is short, and I'm sorry but next chapter should be longer xx


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